


Dirk Gently Drabbles

by ToMarsAndBeyond3



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, I like, M/M, No Smut, Other, So now y'all get to see my drabbles 'n shit, anyway, get on my level, good luck, love this show, my writing sucks, no one on this show is straight, yo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-08 06:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13452543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMarsAndBeyond3/pseuds/ToMarsAndBeyond3
Summary: A collection of drabbles, long and short, about the 2016 adaptation of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Write a story that begins with a color and ends with a sound.

Dirk Gently's jacket was blue. It wasn't the shitty artificial blue you see on recycling bins, nor the dark blue you see on police boxes that is exclusively reserved for time travel. The jacket was nowhere near either of these. Instead, it was a light powder color that stood out even in the biggest of crowds. It was beautiful and bold; and quite frankly, Todd was sick of it.

He didn't hate the jacket. Hell, he'd been the one to buy it for Dirk after they had settled in to the new office building. He'd found it in a thrift store, and never had hr ever seen something that simply screamed "Dirk Gently" than that jacket. So he'd bought it, and Dirk had the biggest smile on his face for the rest of the week.

The only problem was, he never seemed to want to take it off. As it was currently, he'd worn it everyday for a week. Normally, that would be fine; but Dirk practically lived in Todd's apartment at this point, and seeing that blinding blue every day was giving him a headache.

The man always seemed to be wrapped in, or wearing, something heavy.

Todd sighed, putting down the paperwork he had been filling out about the last case. It had been a rather normal one, given their past history. There had only been _two_ acts of arson, and only one distrustful old woman. Granted, there had indeed been two men in a squirrel and moose costume chasing them with slingshots at one point, but they'd experienced worse.

Todd looked up across the room to where his... Friend, was. Dirk was currently wrapped like a sloppy burrito in a pile of - at least - four blankets. And it was worth noting that he still had his jacket on underneath that. Todd closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head.

It wasn't winter, or even spring or Autumn. It was, as it stood currently, the middle of July. Outside was at least eighty degrees, and inside wasn't much better; their air conditioning was barely making a dent.

Jesus christ, the man was going to die of heatstroke before the next case even poked it's head through the window.

Todd heaved himself out of his seat in the kitchen, leaning over the back of the couch so he could look at Dirk's face. Or the side of it, at least; Todd was short. Dirk jumped at the sudden unexpected proximity, but quickly dissolved into a lopsided grin.

"Alright, Dirk," Todd said," You gotta take some of these off."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. Todd sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Dude. It's like, super hot out."

Dirk still didn't answer, shrugging his shoulders and turning his attention back to the television. This time, Todd actually did roll his eyes. He jumped over the couch, sitting next to Dirk. They sat in silence for a few minutes. If he was going to save his boy- uh, his friend from heatstroke, he needed a different approach.

"Why are you always so wrapped up?"

"What?"

Dirk eyes Todd, his eyes wild with confusion. His assistant gestured to the blankets he was currently gripping tightly around himself.

"Your blankets. Your jackets. You're always like, wrapped up in something. Why?" Todd's brows furrowed. "And _don't_ say that it's because your cold. It's the middle of the goddamn summer."

Dirk's mouth went into a line and to the side, his eyes looking up and away. He went silent for a minute.

Todd's head fell back against the sofa. There had to be some way to coax an answer out of -

"I like the pressure."

"Huh?"

"The pressure. I like when it presses up against me. Everything I had when I was little was so thin, it provided almost no shelter from the outside. It was really quite annoying, to be honest. I-"

Dirk rambled, but this time it was Todd who had stopped talking. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Dirk was talking about: Blackwing.

Right.

Todd grabbed one of the blankets, pulling it away from Dirk's grasp. He ignored Dirk's cries of annoyance and shuffled next to him, pulling the blanket now around the two of them.

"Well, I guess we're going to have to suffer together, then."

Dirk smiled, but Todd, being short, couldn't see it. Todd's head rested in the nook of Dirk's neck, and as they sat there, the heat outside actually went down to a cool breeze.

Somewhere on the other side of the apartment, a knock on the door was accompanied by the voice of one Farah Black.


	2. Dream of a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It was a daydream and a nightmare, depending on who you asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Amanda Brotzman thinks about how others view her Rowdy boys.

It was a daydream and a nightmare, depending on who you asked.

On the one hand, Amanda could perhaps see how people would find her boys terrifying. They drive around in a wackadoo van, and broke nearly everything they touched. They were loud, harsh, and none too proper. They were much too skilled with the art of smashing things with baseball bats; hell, they'd taught Amanda that skill on her first day.

And really, when they were in the heat of the moment, breaking everything in sight, they acted almost primal. It was an instinct to them. 

But really, it was an instinct to her too. It was in instinct that everyone had, only the Rowdies actually acted on it. They let _her_ act on it. So yeah, she guessed that they could seem scary to an outsider.

But Amanda knew better. She knew how Gripps would wake Vogel and hold him after a rare nightmare; or how he would amuse Amanda for hours with his vast collection of neon nail polishes. She knew that Cross coukd patch up any wound, and was usually there within seconds of someone getting hurt. She had witnessed the way Martin would comfort them all if they were anxious, scared, or anything of the sort (and just between her and the boys, Martin was a god when it came to cutting hair). And Vogel, energetic Vogel, looked up to them all with the utmost fondness and reverence.

They were wild. They were absolutely fucking insane.

That was the best part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gripps was shown painting Amanda's nails one (1) time and considering Amanda would have had zero access to something like nail polish at that time, I've grabbed onto the headcanon that Gripps likes nail polish and I'm never letting it go.


	3. Let's just kidnap her already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I know we've already broken like, eight laws, but I think we should draw the line at kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically me expressing my love for the ridiculous fashion the holistic buddies seem to find themselves in during cases tbh

"I know we've already broken like, eight laws, but I think we should draw the line at kidnapping."

Dirk rolled his eyes at Todd, ignoring his friend's advice and instead setting upon picking the lock.

For the record, he was really bad at this.

The detective was dressed in a rather peculiar manner. He wore a red floppy sunhat, topped off with polka dotted leggings and a furry tunic. Todd hadn't thought that the outfits they ended up in during cases couldn't get any worse, but this was a new level of awful.

Of course, Dirk loved it.

Todd couldn't say anything, though. He was wearing a floral button up and Tripp pants, and quite frankly, he looked more like an idiot that Dirk did.

He sighed.

"Todd," Dirk started," Is it _really_ kidnapping if we _know_ the person we're kidnapping?"

"You literally just called it kidnapping."

Dirk huffed, turning his gaze back to the lock. Todd continued on, undaunted.

"Besides, I don't Farah would be happy about us literally breaking into her house and dragging her into the case-"

"Oh! Got it!"

The door opened, and Dirk jumped up and down at the spot, doing a little dance. He took a single deep breath, and then turned to Todd.

"Right, I'll go get her, and-"

In the distance, the sound of a monster truck engine and a pissed off monkey could be heard.

Todd swore under his breath. Dirk swore out loud.

"You go get Farah, Dirk! I'll get the car!"

As Todd scrambled away, he had the very distinct thought that this seriously sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on one weird thing where Todd accidentally summons Thor so that should be something to look forward to : D


	4. Dreams In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny Vogel has a nightmare about Mr. Priest, and the other Rowdies come to his aid. Set one year after the initial Blackwing breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this had gotten any longer, I probably would have made it it's own piece. It wasn't to be, I guess.

The darkness was suffocating.

An endless expanse of absolute nothingness stretched out before Vogel. He opened his mouth, trying to call out for someone, _anyone_. Martin. Cross. Gripps. He called out their names, his eyes flitting wildly looking for his brothers.

They weren't there. Moreover, the only noise that actually came out of his mouth was the strangling sound of silence. 

He couldn't talk. He couldn't move.

He couldn't _move_.

Vogel realized his hands were bound. They were stuck in those awful handcuffs that Blackwing made him wear. He jerked his arms apart, trying desperately to get free and force the cuffs open. He stepped backwards, tripping over the sudden presence of water and falling into a puddle.

The water, it seemed, was invisible.

That didn't mean he could feel it, though. The water snakes up his legs, numbing them as it went. It stopped at his waist, and Vogel found it near impossible to move anything below that point.

He was stuck. He was trapped.

And then he heard footsteps.

It was _Him_.

Vogel's throat ripped as he tried to make a sound. Anything. He tried to scream.

It was _Him_. He was _here_.

"Subject Four." The southern drawl was dripping with something sickly sweet, making Vogel's stomach turn. "I know you're here. I can smell you."

Vogel threw his hands over his head, trying to hide from the world. From that man.

"You sneaky little monster you," the voice continued, getting closer," Why don't you come out? We don't want to have to resort to violence, now do we..."

The voice paused.

"On second thought, that actually sounds like fun."

There was an immediate presence of hands on his shoulder and back. Finally, Vogel let out a scream that left his eardrums ringing.

"Vogel!"

He blinked. He was sitting by a dying fireside in the blue glow of early morning. Martin was on his knees next to the boy, searching his face for signs that he had gotten hurt in the dim light.

Oh. _Oh_. The hands on his back belonged to Martin.

A few feet to his right, Cross and Gripps blinked tiredly awake, awoken by the sudden scream. It registered to Vogel that he was shaking.

"Vogel. Hey." Martin pulled Vogel to his chest, wrapping his arms around the small boy to provide shelter. The boy grabbed Martin's arms, hiding his head as he curled up.

"Yo, what's up?"

"Little dude have a bad dream?"

Martin flashed them a look of warning, an expression that was somewhere in between anger and concern. It was easy enough to guess what had been tormenting Vogel in his dream; it happened often enough to become a pattern.

After a few minutes sitting sheltered by Martin, Vogel began to regain his usual breathing pattern, abandoning the ragged breaths he had been taking since he had awoken. Martin nodded to his brothers, his eyes a bit softer. 

Grips nodded back, clambering into their new van to find something to cover Vogel with. Cross crawled to the dying fire, throwing some broken planks in it to reignite it.

By this point, the sky had begun to turn a soft candy pink, but still no sun had appeared. Vogel looked even smaller than usual curled up next to Martin's tall figure.

"Hey. Got something for ya." Gripps had reappeared back where the group was, clutching a jacket in his hands. A blanket had been nowhere to be found, but Vogel was small; he wouldn't mind being wrapped in one of their jackets.

Gripps draped it over the small child and sat down next to them, shielding Vogel from the breeze.

Vogel appeared to be drowning in the overflowing leather, but it didn't seem that he very much minded. He pulled it closer to himself, still leaning into the oldest Rowdy.

The fire roared to life, and Cross, content, crawled over to where the other three were sitting.

Vogel was still shaking.

"Hey Vogel, you're okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you." Martin's voice was low and soft, a stark difference from his usual tone.

"Yeah little dude," Cross spoke up," We'll get anyone who tries."

Finally, Vogel looked up. His expression wasn't discernable in the low light.

"Promise?"

His voice was smaller than usual.

Cross leaned into the three, completing the pile. No one answered for a second, then...

"They ain't gonna hurt you anymore."

In the glow of the dawn, The Rowdy Three held each other close.


	5. Can't sleep? Bake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk can't sleep, so he decides to try his hand at baking.
> 
> In which Todd sleeps with a rolling pin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like, and literally posting this kind of late at night, so I have absolutely no idea what kind of quality it is. If i read it tomorrow and hate it I'll delete it. If not... Then I guess we're good here.

Dirk Gently was, at the moment, covered in flour. 

Given the circumstances, it wasn't too bad. Sure, his shirt would definitely need to be put in the wash, and there were some splatters on the counter, but it wasn't too bad. Nothing a good wipe down wouldn't fix. 

Besides, he liked the mess. It was always such a stark change from his childhood.

Dirk had never really learned how to cook; he could barely microwave things right. He threw food into the box, pressed a button, and it would come out warm. That was good enough for him.

Microwaves. Wondrous things.

Dirk put his finger up to his mouth, shushing the whisk after he set it down. It had clattered rather loudly upon contact with the table, and he didn't want to wake up Todd. Dirk's hand waved around the counter, searching for the rolling pin.

This probably wasn't going to be edible.

But anyway, back to the kitchen. It wasn't a _true_ mess. A real mess would be... Well, anything breakable after it had had contact with The Rowdy Three. It wasn't as bad as that, for sure.

The microwave went off.

Dirk's heart jumped... And so did he. The bowl flew out of his hands, and in seconds he had found himself on the floor. He had quite literally been knocked on his ass.

By a _microwave_.

There was flour everywhere.

This was okay. This was fine. It was manageable, not a problem. That's what he told himself at the very least.

The door to the bedroom flew open, and Todd jumped out, yelling and wielding something in his- _was that the rolling pin?_

"Dirk!?" Todd lowered the rolling pin, his face screwing up as he registered the scene in front of him.

His boyfriend. In boxers. In the floor. Covered in flour.

It registered somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the most normal thing he had ever caught Dirk doing.

"Is that the rolling pin?" Dirk tilted his head slightly, continuing on as Todd tried to get in an answer. "Where did you get that? Was that in the bedroom? Why do you-"

"Dirk!"

The detective went silent. He looked away, shifting his eyes to something that would distract him from the matter at hand.

He found nothing.

"Jesus Christ," Todd muttered, throwing the rolling pin on a chair. He stepped into the kitchen, trying not to get too much flour on his socks. "Jesus Christ, man."

He reached out, grasping Dirk's hand and pulling him up. He put out a hand to steady him. Dirk wobbled a bit on his feet, blinking.

Oh my gosh. He really was covered _head to toe_ with flour.

Todd cleared off the kitchen counter, lifting his annoyingly light boyfriend to sit on it. He sighed, pulling himself up next to him.

"Hey, you with me, man?"

Dirk took a breath.

"Yes. Yes, I think so yes." Dirk tried to brush his hair out of his eyes. "Were you sleeping with that?"

"With... What?" Todd turned wildly, searching Dirk's face.

"The rolling pin. It wasn't in the kitchen and you jumped out ready to nearly _kill_ a man with it. Was it in the bathroom? Do people usually keep rolling pins in the bathroom? I really don't see how that would be helpful in any way-"

"Dirk." Todd cut him off, shaking his head slightly. "It's... Man, it's three in the morning. It doesn't matter. Why are you even awake?"

He looked down at the floor. It was, he registered, and absolute shit fest.

"Why were you baking? Do you even know how?"

Dirk shrugged, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that he always felt worming it's way back into his stomach. He didn't really want to talk about it. His sleeping habits were his own.

Or rather, lack thereof.

"No?" Dirk twiddled his thumbs together. His voice was higher than usual.

"Oh my gosh, Dirk."

And Todd laughed. It was a real, genuine laugh.

Oh thank the heavens. He wasn't mad. Well, he never had gotten mad about Dirk's sleeping habits before, that's true; but Dirk coukd never shake the feeling that people would lash out at him if he messed up.

And the kitchen was definitely messed up.

The laughter faded out, leaving a silence more comfortable than the last. Todd sighed, jumping off the counter. He out his hand out.

"Right. Let's get you cleaned up, then."

"Cleaned?"

"Dirk, you're a mess. I'm washing that shit out of your hair whether you like it or not."

This time, Dirk smiled back.

"If you insist."


	6. The Cat Named Svlad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little girl comes to the agency with a new case: to find her cat, Svlad.
> 
> This happens to coincide with the one year anniversary of when Dirk was recaptured by Blackwing, and he immediately fears the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *prolonged groaning*

The new client was looking for her cat.

Dirk knew that he was overreacting. Really, it wasn't a big deal. It was a cat, that was all. Just a cat.

A cat that happened to share his birth name.

On a very important day of the year.

But yeah, it was nothing. He was fine. There was no evil witch who wanted to kill him, nor a malicious soul swapping cult that was inexplicably after him. There was a distinct lack in magic wands and time machines, and even the usual amount of danger that he stumbled into day to day. Actually, the day had been pretty quiet.

So he shouldn't be freaking out.

The day had started with a strange start; strange in the fact that it been completely normal. That rarely ever occurred.

Dirk had awoken first, the low light of dawn peeking in through the slits in the blinds. Todd was constantly grumbling about how Dirk's sleeping schedule was against some sort of universal rule, but a childhood of waking up at unholy times in the night had that effect.

So Dirk had laid there, motionless, until Todd had finally begun to stir. 

"Don't tell me you've been awake," Todd grumbled into the pillow, his voice blanketed with sleep. Dirk grinned guiltily.

"Only for a bit."

Todd sighed. 

They'd laid like that for a few minutes more, reluctant to put an end to the moment and start the day. There were much more important things than the blaring of their alarm, such as the look in each other's eyes as they lay there entangled.

Yes. Much more important.

Eventually though, they had gotten up. The rest of the morning had been just as slow, with neither even fully dressed until eleven. They had curled up on the couch, eating poptarts and watching Lord of The Rings. Todd had a habit of teasing Dirk in his "crush" on Frodo. Dirk scoffed at the thought.

"Honestly," he'd say, shaking his head like a child," You're the only hobbit I need in my life, darling."

This was more often than not followed by a playful bump to the shoulder, which in turn was followed by more cuddling.

Todd was a sucker for Dirk's go to pet name.

The little girl had arrived a little after noon, as the two men were attempting to find a place to put Mona. She had recently taken to becoming her favorite books, but the agency hadn't yet invested in a bookshelf. They would have to inquire to Farah about that during one of her trips down from Bergsburg.

The girl was small, barely older than ten it could be assumed. Her hair was just a tad tangled, as if whoever had been brushing it had given up at the sheer amount of hair on the child's head. She help up a picture of a cat.

"You want us to find you cat?"

The girl nodded vigorously as Todd examined the picture, Dirk peeking at it excitedly from behind him.

"Mmhmm! I don't have money, but I have these!"

The girl had reached into her bag, promptly pulling out a box of Girl scout cookies. Dirk's eyes lit up.

"Done and done!" He jumped up, grabbing the box. "We'll have your cat home quicker than you can say 'holistic'! Or rather, a few days. Maybe a week, depending on how lucky we are! We'll find them at any rate, arguably!"

Todd sighed as Dirk ripped open the box. Even with his mouth full, the detective still rambled on.

"Does it have a name, by any chance? I find that animals and people and gods are _much_ easier to find when you have a name. Why, I remember once when Thor and I had to fond a friend of his. We didn't know the name and it took _ages_ to-"

Todd lightly elbowed Dirk, signaling for him to stop and let the child speak.

"Yeah! He does!" The girl was just a tad too excitable. "His name is Svlad!"

Oh. Dirk's stomach dropped, and within a minute or two he had found himself in the bathroom with only vauge recollection of how he'd gotten there. His chest was oddly tight.

Dirk curled into the corner, bringing his knees to his chest and hiding his face as he tried to regain his proper breathing pattern. This was stupid. _He_ was stupid. It wasn't a big deal.

But why today? Why did this happen _today_?

Today of all days, he could very clearly feel the threat of Blackwing still looming over him. Friedkin, Riggins, Priest, even Ken...

Was the universe trying to tell him something? He sincerely hoped not, because if this was a message, it certainly wasn't a good one.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Dirk was startled to find that his voice was rather strained.

Todd pushed the door open slowly, peeling his head inside and taking a moment to search the room. After a moment, he found Dirk's place on the floor.

"Dirk?" Todd stepped into the room, leaving the door open so as to not make Dirk claustrophobic. He shuffled along the wall until he was sitting next to Dirk. "May I?"

Dirk nodded, and Todd took Dirk's hand in his. He knew that Dirk had an odd relationship with contact, especially after Blackwing. It was always better to ask first.

"You know," Todd started softly," We can just bail on the case. It's just a cat."

"No!"

Dirk's voice had come out louder and harsher than intended, and he looked away guiltily. He scrambled to fix the tone of his voice.

"Uh, no it's. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm always fine. Just a bit of panic, nothing to worry about. I'm sure it will blow over. I'm just. Just..." Dirk trailed off, losing his train of thought. "I'm fine, Todd. I'm always fine."

Todd let out a breath.

"Dirk, no offense, but that's bullshit."

"What?"

"Dude, you're not okay. You're borderline panic attack. It's alright if you don't want to jump at everything the universe throws at you. You're _allowed_ to be a human being every once in awhile instead of a damn detective."

Dirk bounced his leg uncomfortably, trying to process Todd's words. It was more difficult than one may think.

"You don't gotta do something that makes you uncomfortable. You're not a pawn."

Dirk finally looked at at Todd.

"It isn't... This bad, usually," Dirk said, contemplating his words," It's just. I dunno. It's as if the universe is trying to tell me something that I really don't like."

Dirk didn't continue, but the unspoken implications hung in the air like a wet rag. Todd leaned into Dirk, letting his face rest in the crook of Dirk's neck. Dirk tensed for a second, but soon melted into the touch.

"The universe can kiss my ass," Todd grumbled," You're more important."

They sat like that for a little while longer.


	7. Wednesday Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a lazy Sunday morning, and the crew spends it in their own special ways all across America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try to write a bit of a different, more disjointed thing so. Here.

Farah woke up next to her girlfriend, her arms tangled with the arms of the woman next to her. They weren't just asleep next to each other; it was as if their bodies had tried to become one overnight. Farah brushed a piece of hair out of Tina's eyes, admiring the way the morning light reflected off of her face for a moment before untangling herself.

She walked about the house, going through her usual morning ritual of checking the locks. You could never be too safe.

Well, maybe you could. Farah normally tried not to suffocate people with her insistent safety checks. But you never knew what would happen. Not after meeting Dirk, anyway.

Satisfied, Farah dropped onto a chair, still exhausted from the night before. Granted, she wasn't sure what had happened, but it was probably some sort of Rave.

Probably.

The television was still on. Had it been left on overnight? Farah hurriedly went through what she could remember, her heart picking up for a second.

A pair of arms wrapped around her.

"Well hey, shortstack."

"I'm taller than you, Tina."

"Are ya though? In spirit?"

Farah bit her lip, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her ridiculous girlfriend. Tina was the ultimate dork.

She loved her.

Tina made a small triumphant sound. She pulled herself up, scaling the chair and landing on Farah's lap. She smiled up at her. Farah couldn't help herself; she smiled back. It was infectious.

"You wanna go grab some breakfast? Cops get free grabs on Wednesday mornings."

Farah shook her head.

"Nah," she said," We got food here."

Tina kissed her on the cheek.

 

For the first time in months, it was Todd - not Dirk - who had woken up first. This was a rather rare occurrence; Dirk's sleeping schedule was, for all intents and purposes, quite shit in Todd's opinion.

He'd been trying to fix that.

Dirk's face was inches from Todd's, sleeping serenely in the sweet light of early morning. It was too often that Dirks face was contorted by a negative emotion; fear, panic, disappointment. They all made Todd feel powerless. How was he supposed to help his boyfriend?

Farah would know what to do.

It wasn't just negative emotions. Really, if the emotion was intense, Dirk was probably feeling it throughout the day. Just a few weeks back during the Scarf Case, Dirk had gotten so excited that he'd started speaking in Romanian.

 _That_ was a surprise; for both Todd _and_ Dirk.

Even so, Todd rarely ever got to see Dirk so at peace. He looked younger, more open than he ever had.

An endlessly beautiful man, forever vulnerable to the whims of an unforgiving universe.

Well, it was a good thing that Dirk had Todd to protect him, now isn't it?

Dirk blinked awake, not making a sound as he caught Todd staring at him.

He smiled.

"Good morning, darling."

 

Amanda was pulled into the land of the conscious rather sharply, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her dream, or rather her nightmare, was fading quickly from her memories already.

Drowning. She had been drowning.

Or, maybe it wasn't her. Vogel had been there.

Both of them, perhaps?

It didn't matter. Only the loose strands of the dream remained now; recovering it would be impossible. It wasn't a huge loss, she reasoned. Most likely, it was something she didn't want to remember anyway.

Cross and Gripps were next to her, both of them leaned up against one another in their strange sleeping position. If not for the fact that they both were canceling out the other with the way they were sleeping, they surely would have fallen over.

Vogel was curled up like a cat at Amanda's feet, his odd little bird's nest missing from the corner. Instead, the blanket that Vogel used for it had been draped over Amanda.

She looked at him fondly.

Martin was sprawled out over the two front seats, his arm hanging off the edge and nearly brushing Vogel's hair. His expression made it clear that, for once, he was having a decent dream.

Beast was most likely on the roof. She had complained about the lack of foliage - in her own way - shortly after the return from Wendimor.

It was the middle of summer, so naturally the roof had seemed like the best option. She'd been sleeping there ever since.

The early morning sunlight cut into the van from the open door, illuminating the faces of the Rowdies. Even hers.

It was absolutely stunning.

Amanda couldn't think of any other time than when they were asleep that she had seen them so peaceful.

Not that she didn't love them when they were loud, which was always.

She leaned back against the van, closing her eyes. 

The waking world could wait.

 

It was dark in Bart's room. It was more often than not blanketed in that laughable darkness most hours of the day, except when she had a visitor. Or when she had to eat. Really though, what was eating but an annoying little habit people had?

She almost wished she knew the answer.

There was a draft coming from somewhere, but she hadn't yet had the opportunity to look into it. The jumpsuit material was thin, and didn't offer much in the way of keeping her warm.

It probably didn't matter. The universe wouldn't let her die of hypothermia, after all.

She laughed. The universe didn't care for shit.

Besides, who cared about being invulnerable when there was no one to talk to.

Well no, that was a lie. There was someone to talk to. Ken visited daily, she suspected. It was rather difficult to tell time in this place. He would consist often though, coming to talk to her about every such thing that crossed his mind.

It was different, though. Different than before. _He_ was different.

There was a very distinct power imbalance.

After all, they were no longer partners. They were enemies; and everyone know what happened to Bart's enemies.

Yes, there was a power imbalance. Bart was on the top of it.

She hated it.

She hated the way the universe screamed at her to kill him.

 _No_ , she thought, _No way. Not killing anyone until this gets fixed._

She laid her head in her hands. This was going to be a long wait.


End file.
